Shin KOR 2004: Love Lost, Love Rediscovered
by ice73
Summary: Tokyo, November-December 2004: Madoka is injured in a car crash, and she and Kyousuke must figure out how to deal with her amnesia, which is threatening to tear them apart.
1. Love Lost

**Disclaimer:** Shin Kimagure Orange Road characters © Matsumoto Izumi/ Terada Kenji/ Shueisha. This work is not intended for commercial gain or to infringe or otherwise challenge the status of these copyrights.

**Author's Note:** Tokyo, November-December 2004: Madoka is injured in a car crash, and she and Kyousuke must find a way to deal with her amnesia, which is threatening to tear them apart. Written in honor of the 20th anniversary of Kimagure Orange Road.

For Naoe Tedoriya, wherever you are now.

**SHIN KOR 2004: LOVE LOST, LOVE REDISCOVERED**

**Part I: Love Lost**

Kyousuke Kasuga looked sleepily at the passing scenery. He had just arrived from the train station and was taking a cab home, having been away from home for some weeks. He had just finished a long assignment in the country photographing farms and other rural locations for a government client. He was eager to return, as he had planned many things for his annual family reunion, which was coming up in two weeks.

The cab dropped him off in front of his house, which he and his wife had built near her old home. They had been lucky enough to come upon the lot just as it was put on the market, and with a little help from his father and her parents, they were able to buy it outright. Construction had just finished several months ago, and it was everything they had hoped for, the house of their dreams.

His nose wrinkled as he got out of the cab. It certainly was chilly today. He pulled his denim jacket tighter around him and adjusted his bag on his shoulder as he walked to the front door. He rang the doorbell.

The door was opened by a small figure wearing a white t-shirt and, over it, a red jumper. Her big round eyes glared at him, then turned friendly as she recognized him.

"Papa!" She reached out for him, and he scooped her up in his arms.

"Hey, Naoe! How's my little girl?" he greeted her, smiling, stepping over the threshold, coming in from the cold and damp. She had her mother's emerald eyes.

"Mama!" the child called out. "Papa's here!"

Soft footsteps padded down the stairs leading to the second floor of the newly built house.

Kyousuke halted in his tracks as his wife came down the last flight of steps. Still as beautiful as ever, Madoka Kasuga, formerly Ayukawa, smiled down at him, with those gorgeous green eyes of hers sparkling, and her hair falling to her waist in a silky black wave. She wore a long-sleeved red turtlenecked sweater, and white leggings highlighted her slender legs. Little had changed about her over the years. Perhaps she was a bit more mellow than she used to be, her body was possibly a bit more voluptuous than it was before, and maybe her eyes had some more wrinkles and laugh lines at the edges, but inside, she was pretty much the same Madoka he had fallen in love with way back in junior high at Kouryou Gakuen. If anything had changed about her, it was that she displayed much less of the hard shell that had characterized her when he first met her, the same thing that led her to be classified by the majority of the people who met her then as a 'bad girl'. She was kind and gentle most of the time when she was with her family, and much less snappish with Kyousuke—a development that thrilled him to no end.

"I thought you weren't going to make it," she said.

"Are you kidding?" he exclaimed, giving her a kiss as she got off the last step. "Of course I was going to make it." He ruffled his daughter's hair, causing her to grimace.

"Papa!" she complained, shaking her head. "Don't mess my hair up! Mama just fixed it!"

"Oh, sorry." Kyousuke looked at the little braids on the back of his daughter's head.

"Did you get me a present?"

Setting his daughter down on the floor, Kyousuke grinned at her. "Of course I did. I'll give it to you later, okay?"

Nodding gleefully, the little girl ran off into the dining room.

Kyousuke took his wife in his arms and kissed her more thoroughly. "Welcome home," she murmured.

"How've you been doing, Madoka?"

"Oh, fine. A bit busy with work, lately, but Kazuya's been unusually helpful with Naoe."

"Kazuya?"

A head crowned with unruly black hair peeked out from hallway leading into the dining room. "Hi, Kyousuke-niichan." Then it disappeared.

"I wonder what he's up to," muttered Kyousuke.

Madoka laughed. "Come on, don't be suspicious. He's asking for my help in one of his projects."

_Yeah, don't be such a worrywart, Kyousuke._

_Hey, you twerp, get out of my mind!_

There was an echo of laughter in Kyousuke's mind as Kazuya broke the telepathic connection.

"What are you thinking?" Madoka asked, puzzled at his frowning expression and the way he was staring intensely into the dining room.

"Huh? Oh, nothing. Kazuya." He looked into her eyes. "Aren't you bothered by his reading your mind?"

She smirked at him. "I've got nothing to hide. Maybe you have."

"All I'm thinking about now is having a long hot bath."

"Done," said his wife. Calling out to Kazuya to look after Naoe for a while, Madoka started to lead her husband upstairs, but paused at the bottom of the first flight. Kyousuke watched her cheeks turn red.

"What's wrong?"

Her eyebrows came together for an instant. "You know, you may be right about being bothered by your cousin's mind-reading."

"What did he say?"

Madoka told him, which elicited a yell of outrage. "Kazuya!"

_I was just kidding, Kyousuke-niichan! Lighten up! Geez, where Madoka-neechan's concerned, you sure have the skin of an onion._

_I don't want you to get too fresh with her, you hear? You can't claim the excuse of being a little kid anymore._

There was the mental equivalent of a shrug. _Alright, sorry. Sorry, Madoka-neechan._

Kyousuke's focus returned to the outside world, and his wife. She was looking at him with a smile on her face.

"What?"

"You know, you really look jealous when you get mad at him like that."

"Oh? That's because I am. You're mine and mine only."

Madoka chuckled. "Yes, my master." She tugged at his arm. "Now come on, or the water will get cold."

"Wait a second." He sniffed at the air, which was redolent with the scent of cooking. "If you're here, then who's in the kitchen?" He marched away, anxious to find out.

Standing at the doorway into the kitchen, which was beyond the dining room, which was beyond the living room, he found…

"Kurumi."

"Hi, onii-chan!" Kyousuke's younger sister, wearing an apron and with her netted hair stuffed into a chef's hat, beamed at him. "I hope you're hungry."

He groaned. "Hi. I'm famished, to tell you the truth."

"Good. What's the matter, then?" The only remaining single Kasuga sibling frowned—she had a good idea what the expression on her elder brother's face was all about, and she felt annoyed at the old family joke.

"Nothing, nothing." Returning to Madoka, he allowed her to lead him upstairs.

"You had Kurumi do the cooking?"

"Don't be so unkind. You know she's not a bad cook anymore," Madoka reprimanded him. "And she really wanted to show off for today, so she could prepare for the party."

"Yeah, I know. I was just joking." They paused outside the door to the bathroom. "By the way, how about Manami?" His other sister had attended a convention in the US.

Madoka looked up at the wall clock at the end of the corridor. "Oh, I told her I was picking her up at Narita in around two hours or so. She said she'd call if her schedule changed." She started to unbutton Kyousuke's shirt. "Now, are we going to stand here until I've undressed you, or are you going into the bath?"

"I'm going, I'm going."

-----oOo-----

"I'm going!" Madoka called, snatching the car keys from the kitchen countertop.

"Where to?" asked Kurumi, setting down a bowl of _osso buco_ on the kitchen table.

"Manami just called. I'm going to fetch her. Want to come?"

Kurumi shook her head. "_Bun-bun._ No, thanks, I'm still not finished here."

"Naoe, want to come with Mama and fetch Aunt Manami?"

Madoka's little girl shook her head. "No, Mama, I'm busy playing with Kazuya-niichan."

Kazuya emerged from the kitchen, where he had been helping Kurumi. "Sorry, Naoe, I've got to leave in a short while." Seeing the questioning look on Madoka's face, he explained, "I've got to see a friend. I'll be back quickly."

"Ooh, a friend," said Kurumi teasingly. "I wonder which one, the blond one or the black-haired one?"

"I-it's nothing like that!" Kazuya protested.

Madoka chuckled, seeing in him the very image of Kyousuke as he continued to contend with Kurumi's taunting. Her husband and his cousin both looked alike, same spiky hair, similar height, same eyes; they even acted alike sometimes.

"Well, I'll be going now. Naoe, you take care of your father while I'm gone, okay?"

Naoe nodded.

"Bye."

-----oOo-----

Kyousuke Kasuga gazed out the bedroom window. Beyond it, he could see the distant river. Normally it was a highlight in the scenery, sparkling as it flowed under the noonday sun. He had brought Naoe there sometimes, angling for the sweetfish that abounded in its waters. But now it seemed dark and lifeless under the cloudy winter sky, and the world, despite the shining sun, cold and grey.

He sat on their bed, Madoka's and his, refreshed by his bath, but somehow depressed by the sight. He shrugged on his happi coat and returned downstairs.

At the last stairstep, he inexplicably tripped and went flying forward, losing one of his zori sandals in the process. As his hands flung out automatically, to protect him in case he fell, his right hand snagged the photo on top of the bureau beside the landing. It went crashing to the floor, skittering in front of him. To make matters worse, as he regained his balance, he stepped on it. There was a loud cracking sound, and Kyousuke swore as he gingerly hopped off it.

Kurumi and Kazuya appeared at the entrance to the dining room.

"What happened? You alright, big brother?"

Kyousuke, who had knelt down to pick up the photograph, nodded. "Yeah. Damn." He held up the bent photo frame. The glass had shattered, and the picture inside it—the first picture ever taken of them as a family, with him, Madoka, and baby Naoe in her arms—was damaged.

He carefully pulled the picture out of the frame, cursing his ineptitude. A piece of glass had cut a wide, accordion-folded swath across Madoka's face.

"Well," he grumbled, "I guess that's it for this photo."

Kazuya walked to him and looked closer at the family portrait. "Aww, nii-chan, how could you be so clumsy?"

"Stow it, Kazuya." He stood up. "Anyway, I've got copies of it somewhere." He pocketed the photo.

There was a loud _meow_, and Kyousuke saw that the family cat, Jingoro II—whom everybody called Jingoro, the original having died long ago, after living an adventurously escapist life, what with Kurumi and Manami drowning him with affection—was batting the old red straw hat Madoka had given him when they had first met around on the floor. It had somehow fallen from its peg on the wall.

"Shoo! Go play with something else!" As he reached for the hat, the cat took it in its jaws and ran off with it into the dining room.

"Hey, come back with that!"

"I've got it," Kazuya said, running after Jingoro.

The doorbell chimed loudly, and Kurumi went to answer it.

"Hello, everyone!" Takashi Kasuga, Kyousuke's father, gray-haired and face lined with age, stepped into the genkan.

"Hi, pop!" greeted Kurumi. "You're early."

"You said you weren't going to arrive until late at night," Kazuya reminded him, returning from the chase with the hat in one hand and the struggling cat in another. He replaced the hat on the wall, but it fell again to the floor. Frowning, he picked it up.

"The person I was working for told me to cut the session short, seeing as how it was snowing heavily."

Naoe came bounding into the room. "Good afternoon, Grampa!" She gave him a comically serious little bow.

Takashi's expression and return bow was just as solemn. "Good afternoon, Naoe. Come here." He lifted her up. "Unh… you're getting heavy. Kyousuke, you're feeding her too much."

"Oh, come off it, pop," his son said. "You're just tired." Many times Kyousuke and Madoka had told him to come live with them, but strangely Takashi was insistent on living in a small apartment all by himself. "At long last, peace and quiet," he had said. "I won't have to worry about flying cabinets and such things any more."

After warning them not to step on the broken glass on the floor, Kyousuke went to fetch a broom and dustpan. Rummaging around in the kitchen closet, he heard the phone ring.

"Hello?" Kurumi answered it. "Yes, it is. Yes, he's here. Onii-chan, it's for you."

"Who is it?"

"The police."

Kyousuke raised his eyebrows. He went and took the receiver from Kurumi, who was looking at him with mystification on her face. "Hello?"

"Mr. Kasuga?" The voice was male.

"Yes?"

As the person on the other end of the line spoke, Kurumi watched her brother turn pale. "What?" he fairly shouted into the phone. "Where? Yes, I'll be there! Thank you."

He set it down, and she could see his hand was trembling.

"Kyousuke? What was it about?" his father asked.

"M-Madoka… she's been in a car accident. They're taking her to the hospital."

The red straw hat fell from Kazuya's hand and fluttered to the floor.

-----oOo-----

Thirteen years ago, it had been the other way around: Madoka running through the hospital corridors, while he lay fighting for his life in the operating room after being hit by a car. Now he found himself in her position, and the bite of care and fear in his heart sent the adrenalin rushing through his body. Kazuya and Takashi had to stop him from charging into the emergency room, just as Master had to stop Madoka from barging into the operating room so many years before.

"Let me go! I have to see her!"

"Son." Takashi's voice was calm. "There's nothing you can do for her now. Let the doctors do what they have to."

"Nii-chan…" Kazuya pleaded.

Slowly Kyousuke calmed down, enough for his father and cousin to release him. His body seemed to shake with anxiety as he stood there, gazing intensely at the emergency room doors.

Kurumi came running up to them, her brown hair flying. "She's still in there," she told them. "They just brought her in two minutes ago." They had arrived quickly at the hospital thanks to Kyousuke's immediate use of his Power, teleporting everyone with him into an alleyway near the building.

"Kyousuke, go sit down," said his father. "Kurumi, Kazuya, stay with him. I'll see if I can contact your grandfather."

The wait was interminable. Various awful scenarios ran through Kyousuke's head, driving him nearly mad with worry. It was over an hour before a doctor came out of the emergency room and asked for him.

The old man wearing the stained green smocks and white surgical cap pulled his mask off. "I'm Doctor Itazuki," he said in a quiet voice. "Are you Mr. Kasuga?"

Kyousuke stood up. "Yes."

"Please sit down." He did as told, and the doctor took the empty seat beside him, everyone leaning closer to hear what he had to say.

"Your wife is in rather poor shape…" he began.

"What do you mean?" Kyousuke snapped, impatient for him to get to the point.

Dr. Itazuki cleared his throat, unperturbed by Kyousuke's outburst, having experienced the same thing many times before. A kind man, he sympathized totally with his patients and their families.

"She has a broken right arm, bruised ribs, a hairline fracture of the skull, and her brain is bruised and swelling. We need your permission to operate on her, just in case it's needed."

Kyousuke's face had fallen as the doctor talked. "Needed?"

The doctor massaged his stiff right shoulder with a hand. "Well, the swelling isn't as bad as we had feared at first. We'll let an hour or two go by, then we'll see if we need to relieve the pressure inside her skull. I'd rather not operate if it isn't necessary."

"Yes, do whatever is needed, just save her. Please."

The doctor motioned to a waiting nurse, who handed him a clipboard. He turned it over to Kyousuke. "We need you to sign these forms. It's standard procedure."

Kyousuke went over the papers, then took the pen from the clipboard and signed. Handing it back to the nurse, he asked, "Can I see her?"

"No, I'm sorry, you can't just now. Maybe after a few hours, after we've done the next batch of tests." He put a hand on Kyousuke's shoulder. "We're doing all we can. You have my word on that."

Kyousuke nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

"Doctor," said Kazuya, reading Kyousuke's mind and bringing himself to ask what the other Kasuga couldn't say, "is she going to be alright?"

"I believe so," said Dr. Itazuki. "If there are no complications, then there's a good chance she'll recover perfectly." He frowned. "But I must tell you… there's no way to tell how brain damage will affect her."

"Is there any?" Kurumi asked.

"None we could detect, aside from the swelling and bruising. But the concussion she received could have consequences we aren't able to spot yet. Sometimes they appear weeks after the initial injury."

Kyousuke put his face in his hands.

"I must leave now. Do you have any other questions?"

Kurumi looked at Kyousuke, then Kazuya, and shook her head. "No. Thank you, Doctor."

"I'll see you later." Dr. Itazuki stood and left, the nurse trailing in his wake.

Kazuya watched them go, then stood up from his seat and leaned against the opposite wall of the corridor.

"No, no, no," Kyousuke moaned, his face still covered by his hands.

"Onii-chan, don't lose heart," said Kurumi. "We all know Madoka-san's a fighter."

"Yeah," agreed Kazuya.

Just then Takashi came back, shaking his head.

"The lines are down," he said. Their grandfather, that irascible old man, had begrudgingly installed a telephone in their home in the province. "Snowstorm."

"I'll see if I can reach him," said Kazuya, who then departed to find a quiet place where he could practice his powerful ability.

"The doctor just passed by," said Kurumi, filling her father in on what Dr. Itazuki had said.

"Kyousuke," said Takashi. "I'm sure she'll be alright."

Looking up at him, Kyousuke nodded in agreement. She _would_ be alright. The alternative was unthinkable.

-----oOo-----

Staring at the figure in the bed, Kyousuke wanted to weep, wanted to believe it was all a nightmare, and he was going to wake up shortly from it.

Madoka was unrecognizable, lying there covered by a bedsheet and by so much bandaging on the head that no part of her was visible except her eyes and mouth. She was awake, and it hurt him to see her in so much pain. She couldn't speak because she had been intubated; a plastic tube ran into her mouth and down her throat, connected to a respirator which had helped her breathe, in a hateful, painful process, by pumping air into and out of her lungs. The respirator was off now, no longer necessary, but the tube was still there, in case it was ever needed again. A varied panoply of medical devices surrounded her bed, watching her silently, playing their own idiosyncratic beeps and noises.

She hardly ever moved; Kyousuke knew how she must be feeling, having gone through much the same thing while recovering from his own accident. He wished there was some way of getting her out of her plight. He had even, in his desperation, considered switching bodies with her, using his grandfather's soul-switching rope, but the fact that it took time for one's soul to adjust to a new body—and a healthy one at that—prevented him. It was just possible that the process might throw the healing process out of whack and aggravate her injuries or, even worse, shock her body and kill her. He didn't want to take the risk, although to him the need seemed great enough, since she was doing as well as could be expected.

It had been four terrible days and nights since the accident. The swelling in her brain had gone down rapidly, negating the need for surgery, and she had woken up on the second day. On the third night, the medical team assigned to her had decided she was well enough to be transferred from the intensive care unit to the private room Kyousuke had gotten for her. He had left her side only to visit Naoe, whom he had left at home in the care of Manami. He took showers in the room's bathroom; he slept on the provided couch. The number of people helping them had slowly increased: Akane, Kazuya's older sister, had heard from him about the accident and had posted herself with Manami, taking care of Naoe and running the house; Madoka's parents were flying in from Seattle, having resorted to borrowing a private jet from a friend since the airlines were fully booked; her older sister was even now downstairs fixing the paperwork needed for her stay at the hospital and the release of the medicines she needed; and even the graying and aged Master of the old ABCB pub where she used to work back when she was in high school had dropped by, saying he was going to pray for her recovery and would inform as many of her old friends as possible. Kazuya had not been able to contact Ojii-chan, so they had to cope without him and the possible help he could have brought them. Kyousuke could not help feeling resentful towards his grandfather: none of the espers present had any ability to help Madoka, either to heal her or ease her agony; and Kazuya, who had tried to read her mind once, was rewarded with a debilitating wave of pain and refused to attempt it any more.

Those four days and nights were like a stay in hell. Kyousuke could barely contain himself during the three times Madoka had, out of nausea and sheer reaction to her pain and injuries and the various drugs they were pumping into her system, vomited and tried to cough up the intubation tube. He had to call the nurses, who pinned down his thrashing wife as they cleaned her up and reset the tube, causing her more pain. He forced himself to stay and try to calm her, squeezing her hand and speaking, in a level, soothing voice, words of encouragement to her. Then, after each episode, he went out into the corridor and wept bitterly, his heart torn by her suffering and by his inability to do anything about it. _Madoka, oh God, _he had cried within himself. _Please spare her! Only give her strength!_

Now, as Kyousuke sat on the couch, he held the scratchpad which he had used to communicate with his wife, by pointing out syllables to her until they had formed a sentence. It was an arduous process he had just started that morning, through which he had just made a horrible discovery. Reading what he had written, what she had indicated to him with eyeblinks and head nods and arm taps, he felt despondent, and didn't want to believe it.

_Where am I? Who are you?_

-----oOo-----

"Amnesia? Are you sure?" Manami asked.

Takashi nodded. "Partial. She seems to remember some things. A great many others, she doesn't." He looked at his daughter with sadness in his eyes. "Unfortunately, one of them is Kyousuke."

Manami took Naoe's bottle from the sterilizer. The kid still insisted on her milk as well as her baby food. "Poor onii-chan." She went to the cabinet where the formula was kept and took a can out, setting it on the countertop. She fidgeted with her glasses.

"Dad," she said, bowing her head, "I feel guilty. If she hadn't gone out to fetch me…"

"It's not your fault. Accidents happen." He tried to comfort her by patting her shoulder. "We can be thankful that she's going to be okay physically, at least."

Brown-haired Akane galloped into the kitchen, carrying a laughing Naoe on her back. "And the horse lived happily ever after with her rider," she said, concluding the story she had been acting out for an hour now to please her cousin's angelic little girl. She took Naoe in her arms and put her on the floor.

"Let's stop for now, kiddo," she said. "I'm bushed."

"Auntie Akane, when are Mama and Papa going to come home?"

Akane's smile instantly turned into a frown. "I don't know."

"I'm sure it will be soon," said Manami quickly. "They're pretty busy right now."

"Anyway, we're here," said Takashi.

"But why can't they come home?"

"They're… busy with their jobs, Naoe. Have patience." Kyousuke had instructed them not to tell his daughter what had happened. If it ever needed to be done, he said, he would do it himself.

Naoe nodded. "Okay. But I'm lonely without them here."

Takashi glanced Manami's way. She saw the pity in his eyes. "Don't worry, we're here, we'll stay with you, and you can play with us."

-----oOo-----

"Yes, I remember you, Mama," Madoka said, sitting up in her bed, her bedcover over her legs, her right arm in a cast. It was the sixth day of the second week of her stay in the hospital, and her parents were with her, giving the Kasuga family a much-needed rest. "But I can't remember a lot of other things, including that man they said was my husband." She looked at them and asked with a straight face, "Do I love him?"

Mr. and Mrs. Ayukawa traded looks. Her mother spoke up. "Yes, my dear, you do."

"And, if I'm any judge of human nature," added Mr. Ayukawa, "very much so. Madoka, are you sure you can't remember?"

A frown appeared on their younger daughter's face, and she shook her head. "No, Papa, I can't. I'm sorry."

"I'm just surprised that of all the things you could forget, you had to forget Kyousuke," remarked her father. "I'd have thought his memory would have been buried within the very fiber of your being." Unlike most men of his generation, Maestro Ayukawa could say such things and not seem one iota less manly for it. "Otherwise, I'm sure you wouldn't have defied my wish for you to live with us, and married him."

"Well, I'm sure when you get better you'll remember everything," her mother said. "In the meantime, leave everything to us and the Kasugas. We'll take care of you."

Madoka leaned back against her fluffed-up pillows, tired with the effort of sitting up. She recalled the pained expression on the man's face two days ago as they removed her breathing tube. She had felt a vague feeling of wanting to ease the hurt that he must have been experiencing, a feeling that stayed with her even now. "I hope you're right."

-----oOo-----

What was supposed to be a reunion turned into a welcoming-home party for Kyousuke's wife. The house had been decorated for the occasion, with a large _Welcome Home! _banner out front, and a lot of relatives and friends had arrived just to greet her and wish her well.

Kyousuke watched the milling throng in the living room as they gathered around the newly-arrived Madoka. They had monopolized her attention; he hadn't had a chance to speak to her yet, much less be with her.

He recalled the previous week, when he had gone to the police station with his father, to meet again the driver of the car which had smashed into Madoka's Mini, and to tell the police he wasn't pressing charges against him. According to eyewitnesses, and the police themselves, it hadn't really been his fault; the road at the intersection had simply turned too icy in the unusually cold weather, and both cars had ended up sliding uncontrollably into each other. It was just bad luck that Madoka's car had turned to the left just before it was rammed by the other car, which had been traveling at a higher speed.

_Bad luck, huh,_ growled Kyousuke to himself. Their first meeting with the hapless driver hadn't been so amiable: Kyousuke had flattened him with one punch to the nose, then subsided as Takashi held him back. The man simply sat there on the ground, blood streaming from his nostrils, and said he understood, and wouldn't press charges against Madoka's angry husband.

They had also visited the police impound yard, where the smashed-up Mini was being stored. Kyousuke had made arrangements for the car to be brought to the scrap heap. He had taken one look at the vehicle, driver's side all crumpled, spots of blood still on the dash and seat, and decided he never wanted to see it again.

A clearing of the throat brought him out of his reverie. Kazuya stood in front of him, smiling. _Don't zone out now, Kyousuke-niichan._ He stepped aside, and there she was, standing demurely in her simple pink dress, and—notwithstanding the bruise on her cheek, the bandage on the side of her head, the set right arm, and the many little scratches and abrasions on her body—still as lovely in his eyes as a wildflower in a mountain hollow. And, he thought with grief, just as unreachable.

"Hello, Madoka," he greeted her, bowing. "Welcome home."

Naoe, who had been standing quietly enough at his side, intimidated by the many strangers in their home, ran to her. "Mama! What happened to you?"

There was a tense moment as Madoka regarded the little doll-like person in front of her, made up in a frilly red dress and pink buckled shoes that she herself had bought just one month ago.

"Hi, Naoe," she said, and everyone breathed a sigh of relief. She bent down and kissed her daughter on the head. "I had a little accident, but I'm okay now." She straightened up and took Naoe's hand in her own free one. "Mostly."

She looked at Kyousuke. "Hello, my husband."

Her formality only added to his sorrow. He already missed her encouragement, her kind and gentle ways, and her saucy double-talk when they were alone; it seemed like he would miss them a lot more, before everything was through.

He went to her and linked his arm around her cast-shod one. She smiled up at him, a shy, nervous gesture.

"Hey, everybody," called a voice that Kyousuke recognized as Oryu's. The former _sukeban _rival of Madoka, still dressed in her police officer's uniform, held a plate in her hand. "The food's ready. Time to eat."

People began to file into the dining room, leaving the couple alone.

Kyousuke felt acutely awkward. There were a million things he wanted to say to her, this stranger beside him. But he didn't know where to start, or how she would react. Doubtless she felt the same.

He looked at Madoka. "How are you?"

"I'm fine. What about you? You didn't look so good the last time."

"Well, what do you expect? You were lying there all messed up. How was I supposed to react?"

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to become a burden to you."

"No, no, you've got it all wrong. I didn't mean it that way." Kyousuke sighed and stopped talking, instead leading them to the dining room buffet.

-----oOo-----

Later that night, when all the guests had gone, Kyousuke suggested to her that she might be tired and want to rest.

"In a minute," she had answered, and went to the upright piano in the corner of the living room, standing in front of it.

"Now this," she declared, "I remember perfectly." She opened the lid, and played a few notes with her left hand. Then she put it back.

She looked at Kyousuke. "Some of the songs I wrote…" she said, a questioning look on her face. "They were for you?"

Kyousuke shook his head. "I wouldn't know. You never told me. You were always so private about them, you wouldn't even discuss them with me."

Madoka blushed and turned away from him, thinking she had inadvertently revealed something to him she shouldn't have.

"I think I'm tired," she told him then. "I guess going to bed would be best."

"Okay." He went and bade everyone a good night, then accompanied her upstairs. Naoe had already fallen asleep earlier and had been put to bed by Manami.

The elder Kasuga twin watched from the dining room as Kyousuke and Madoka disappeared up the stairs. "You know," she said, "I wouldn't want to be in onii-chan's shoes for all the money in the world."

"Yeah," concurred Kurumi, who with Manami and Kazuya was carrying dirty dishes and utensils to the kitchen sink for Akane to wash. "I was looking at him when he talked to Madoka-san, and all I could see was how sad he was every time she couldn't remember something." She turned to Kazuya. "See, I told you I was right in not getting married yet. You shouldn't be so serious with Emi-chan."

Kazuya stifled a yawn. "Kurumi-neechan, if I want your opinion, I'll ask for it first."

Kurumi, peeved, stuck a tongue out at him and disappeared into the kitchen.

-----oOo-----

That night sleep avoided Madoka like the plague. She was lying in bed beside Kyousuke, after a brief impasse earlier, about being reluctant to sleep with a strange man, something that she decided was the ultimate in silliness. Didn't the very existence of Naoe prove that she had done much more than simply lie unconscious beside Kyousuke? But the unfamiliar room, with its alien smells and absent memories, kept her awake. She tried to use the time to retrieve what she could, but frequently all her mind could come up with was a blank.

She rolled and faced towards him. Like strangers, they had been facing away from each other. "Kyousuke-san? Are you awake?"

"Mmm? Yes, Ayukawa, I'm here." Inwardly, Kyousuke was disappointed and piqued every time she added the '-san' when she called him by his first name, remembering their intimacies: how she would cry out "Kyou-chan!" sometimes when they made love; how she, in the twenty years they had known each other, had never called him anything but 'Kasuga-kun' or 'Kyousuke' or 'anata'. Not once had she called him 'Kyousuke-san.' He knew she was just trying to find her footing with him, and that he could have corrected her easily and be done with it; but he still couldn't help being annoyed, and decided that if she was going to distance herself from him, then he too would distance himself from her by calling her the way he used to, when they were still students. What he had called her by for the longest time—her maiden surname, Ayukawa.

Madoka was silent for a moment. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Yes?" He rolled towards her.

The dim night light reflected off her eyes. "Did we ever… I mean, did I ever ask you to… to hold me? I know it's probably a stupid question, but…"

Without a word Kyousuke snaked his arms around her and held her in a fierce embrace.

She blushed, thankful for the darkness, and rested the side of her head against him. "Thank you. I couldn't sleep."

She felt him kiss her hair. "You can go to sleep now."

Kyousuke held her, waiting, feeling her breathing even out as she fell asleep, her mind worn with fatigue and frustration.

"You can go to sleep now," he whispered. "Madoka."

-----oOo-----

The days passed by in a haze of remembered thoughts and more unremembered ones, of little faux pas and big ones that necessitated intervention, and more pain for both members of the couple. Not just physical pain, though they knew Madoka had enough of it to deal with: she suffered sometimes from fainting spells, an aftereffect, the doctor said, of the blow her brain received, one that would disappear in time; and she sometimes complained about her broken arm being painful. Kyousuke was starting to lose hope that she would ever remember him and all they had shared. It was as if, he told himself, lying awake in bed one night staring at the ceiling, they were starting again from scratch. He could remember her, standing there unable to answer a question posed by him or someone else, and each time that happened a little knife twisted itself deeper into his heart.

The various blunders Madoka had committed served to turn her into a silent, hesitant presence in the house, often avoiding the other members of her family, seeking refuge at the piano and forcing herself to play it, broken arm and all. In the intervening days, her cast had been replaced by a lightweight sheath, which helped her playing, but not her healing. The loud strains of her music filled the house with her anger and anguish at being adrift in what had previously been a safe, loving harbor for her. Everyone who heard it could feel what she was trying to express, and were in turn made miserable by their powerlessness to help her. Even little Naoe, innocent as she was, could sense the disquiet in her mother, often clambering up on the piano bench beside her, and watching her play. Often she would ask, "Mama, what's wrong? Why aren't you happy?" To which Madoka would answer, "It's nothing, Naoe. I've just got a lot on my mind." A reply which seemed ironic to her, given the barriers that were standing between her and her memory.

November had passed and turned into the Christmas month when she decided to return to work. She knew she was turning the house of joy into a house of gloom, and decided her absence would lighten things somewhat for those who had to stay with her.

She did well enough at her job, taking care of some important business matters, before Kyousuke turned up at the studio where she worked to accompany her home.

"Hello, dear," she had greeted him, putting on a heavy leather coat.

"Hi, yourself," replied Kyousuke, glad to see her happy. "Let's go, eh? The bus will be along in a few minutes."

She nodded and departed on his arm.

"Kyousuke-san?" she had asked as they walked to the bus stop. "What do we usually do at Christmas?"

"Huh? Oh, this year we were planning to have a party around Christmas Eve."

"I see." Which meant she didn't remember. "Could we stop by somewhere first, before we go home?"

"Sure. Where are we going?"

To his surprise she took him to a small temple, where he stood by watching as she rang the bell, threw an offering into the slotted receptacle, clapped her hands three times, and prayed, an earnest expression on her face. When she was through, she turned to him. "Let's go."

"Wait, I think I want to do this too." He repeated what she had done, then said, "Okay, let's go."

Snow had begun to fall, and Kyousuke opened the Chinese umbrella he had brought for just such a situation, placing it over her. She responded by snuggling closer to him. "Hey, you're going to get soaked walking in the snow like that."

Kyousuke hungered for moments like this, when her seeming lucidity enabled him to pretend that everything was alright between them, that the accident had never occurred, that Madoka had not forgotten him or the years they had journeyed through together. He put an arm around her waist.

"Hey, could you tell me?" he asked. "What was it you prayed for?"

She shook her head. "You know I can't do that."

"Why not?"

"It won't come true then."

"Oh, come on, Ayukawa."

She looked up at him, and her green eyes flashed irritation. "How come you always call me that?"

He raised his eyebrows. "It's what I used to call you, before we… made love for the first time."

"Well, I remember you in the hospital," she said, looking back down at the sidewalk. "When you thought I was asleep, I could hear you calling me 'Madoka, Madoka.' Why won't you call me that anymore?"

"Do you want me to?"

"Of course! I'm your wife, aren't I?"

"Okay," Kyousuke replied, smiling, glad that this matter was being cleared up. "But one thing?"

"What?"

"Call me Kyousuke, okay? Just… Kyousuke."

She nodded. Then her eyes flashed again, as a thought struck her.

"_Yuujuufudan,_" Kyousuke heard her intone. "_Yuujuufudan._" She looked at him. "Indecisive. Indecisive. That's you, isn't it?"

He laughed sheepishly. "Yeah, that's me. I wish you didn't remember that."

Madoka smiled back at him. "I might just get everything back. I really hope I will."

Kyousuke, spirits raised, agreed with her. He hugged her closer as they walked down the street and back to the bus station.

-----oOo-----

The next morning, Kurumi was mixing herself a cup of coffee when her older brother ambled into the dining room, bleary-eyed.

"Morning, onii-chan. You look like hell."

"Good morning, Kurumi. Yeah, I didn't sleep much last night."

"Oh?"

"Yeah." He opened the refrigerator and took out a can of orange juice. "You know, I think we should keep our power a secret from Madoka for now," he said.

"Why?"

Kyousuke sighed. "Last night while I was in bed I felt my throat itch. I didn't want to get up anymore, so I used my power to pull the lozenge packet on my desk to me. In the middle of doing so I heard a gasp, and there she was, sitting up in bed, staring at it, white as a sheet." He opened the can and took a swallow, then continued. "She thinks the house is haunted now. I had to spend the night sitting up with her, trying to convince her that she must have been dreaming."

Kurumi chuckled. "So it looks like she hasn't forgotten that she's afraid of ghosts."

He nodded. "I guess we have to treat her like a stranger, when it comes to the Power. At least for now."

Kurumi put the box of coffee back into the little cabinet on the countertop. "What'll you be having for breakfast, onii-chan?"

"An egg or two would be nice."

As Kurumi began to assemble the things she needed to cook the morning meal, she asked, "Say, onii-chan?"

Kyousuke looked up from the refrigerator, where he had been noting the contents for the next trip to the grocery. "What?"

"Are you two, um, alright?" Her eyebrows pumped up and down suggestively. "You know, as husband and wife."

Kyousuke sighed. "Is it that obvious?" For all her irresponsibleness, Kurumi had a knack of figuring out what was bothering him with discomfiting accuracy. The same went for Manami. "No, we're not alright. At least, I'm not." He recollected the day he had accidentally walked into the bath upstairs. Madoka had forgotten to lock the door. Upon seeing him, she had shrieked and almost pelted him with the plastic dipper she was using. Then she realized that what she was doing was stupid, that she was panicking for no reason, and actually invited him in. But the awkwardness between them was so tangible, and Madoka so painfully shy, that Kyousuke cut his stay short, covering it up by washing her back quickly, then leaving.

His hands clenched as he recalled her lovely alabaster skin and the way it felt under his touch. Kurumi saw his troubled expression, and decided to stop talking to him about it, leaving him to wrestle with his own demons.


	2. Love Rediscovered

**Part II: Love Rediscovered**

Some would say they were tied with a red string of destiny. Others would say that they existed in a delicate triangle of unpleasant balance. Whatever the truth was, two corners of the triangle were in nuptial trouble, and the red string of fate that tied them together seemed about ready to unravel.

Two weeks after Kurumi had asked him about the state of his and Madoka's relationship, in the wee hours of the morning, Kyousuke found sleep eluding him and went down to the kitchen to fix himself a snack. The grandfather clock in the living room had just chimed two A.M., and he was just about to return upstairs, when his gaze fell upon his wife's picture on the mantelpiece. He walked up to it and slowly reached out, his fingers tracing the outline of Madoka's face, her lips, those green eyes, and her fall of black hair. He knew all the while the real person was upstairs, asleep, but couldn't bring himself to try to be more intimate with her just yet. He brought his arm down and spent the next minute or two staring out the nearby floor-length window into the winter darkness, thinking of what he could do to help her regain her memory.

He never saw the nightgown-clad figure on top of the stairs watching him. As Kyousuke turned to head back upstairs, it disappeared, retreating back into their bedroom.

-----oOo-----

The next morning they were in their bedroom changing clothes when Madoka revealed her plans to her husband.

"I'm leaving."

Kyousuke was sure his mouth fell agape when he heard that. "What? W-why?"

Madoka averted her eyes. "I can't stand it here any more."

Part of Kyousuke wanted to grab her and shake her by the shoulders. The other part wanted to grab her and make sure she never left his arms again. "Madoka, I don't understand," he said, his voice timid and small. "Surely you don't mean that."

"I feel like a stranger here. I can't take it anymore." She looked at Kyousuke, and a mixture of sadness and anger was written in her eyes. "What part of that can't you understand?"

"But…"

"You don't get it, do you? I'm tired of the blank wall in my head, I'm tired of the way I keep stumbling over the other people in this house, and most of all I'm tired of hurting you."

When the disbelief on her husband's face refused to go away, she continued. "You think I can't tell when I hurt you?" Tears glistened in her eyes. "Credit me with a little more insight than that, my husband." She sighed. "Kyousuke, how am I supposed to stay here when everything I do seems to bring you pain? It hurts you because I don't remember our love for each other. It hurts you because we can't do the things we used to, because I can't respond to you like before. 'Twenty years is not an easy thing to replace,' you said. Well, it's like a twenty-year mirage to me." For a moment her voice turned pleading. "Why can't we try building a new relationship? It isn't easy, I know that. But we get along well enough sometimes, don't we? Why must you keep comparing me to the Madoka before the accident?"

"Because that's the Madoka I knew!" Kyousuke yelled brokenly, his anger and grief suddenly surfacing. "That's the Madoka I grew up with, the one I met on the hundred-step stairs. She was the one who spent twenty years by my side. She was the one who bore me Naoe. She was the one I lost…"

The tears trickled down Madoka's cheeks as she listened to Kyousuke's outburst. "You're so unfair…" she whispered, her heart breaking. "I'm the one who bore you Naoe. I'm the one you grew up with. It's me, Kyousuke. I've lost my memory, that's all. I can't do anything about that. You're so damn unfair! Why can't you try and love _me_, my husband?"

She turned away. "Che! What am I saying? If you feel that way, if you can't even risk trying to start a new relationship with me, then I no longer belong here."

They were silent for a long time, each wanting to flee the other's presence, but at the same time wishing they could find some way to work it out between them.

Kyousuke was the first to capitulate. "I'm sorry. That was a stupid thing I said… I realize that now. Please don't do this."

Still facing away from him, Madoka shook her head. "Oh, no, Kyousuke Kasuga. Apologies are not enough. Not this time. Not after what you said." She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.

"Madoka… please."

She shook her head again. "No! And before you ask, I'm taking Naoe with me."

Her declaration alarmed Kyousuke even more. "Madoka! Please reconsider! Naoe needs both of us."

"Does she? You told me you grew up in a one-parent family. I grew up practically alone."

Kyousuke, who had been standing, fell to his knees. He kowtowed deeply, pressing his forehead to the floor, his hands splayed out on either side of him. "Please…" he whispered. "I need you too."

An unnamable emotion made her shudder as she looked down at his prostrate form. A tear fell from her eye as she knelt before him and pulled him up into a kneeling position.

"_Anata,_" she said, putting her hands on his cheeks, her face inches away from his. For a long moment they stared silently at each other, reading each other's emotions.

She straightened up, put down her hands and wondered if she was about to do the right thing. "All right, Kyousuke, I'm going to give it another chance. Three days. But only because of Naoe—and because this dumb, amnesiac woman thinks she loves you too, even if she can't recall who you are."

"Three days?" she heard him say.

"Yes."

"To convince you to stay?"

"That's right."

"Then I'll give it my best. You can be sure of that." He looked her in the eyes, and she could see the determination in his face.

-----oOo-----

Kyousuke was assiduous in paying attention to his wife the next day, going so far as to buy flowers which he weaved into her hair and Naoe's as soon as they arrived home. Madoka had decided to act as though yesterday didn't happen, to give him a fair chance to convince her to stay. So far, she felt like he was succeeding.

After he had finished, she carried Naoe to the mirror hanging in the hallway leading from the living room to the bedrooms on the ground floor. Both mother and daughter were curious and excited to see what they looked like.

"Pretty!" exclaimed Naoe. "You look pretty, Mama."

"How cute you are," chuckled Madoka. A bow of red flowers arched from her ears to the back of her head, with some white ones peeking out at the sides. Naoe's wreath had the opposite color scheme.

They returned to the living room. "Like it?" asked Kyousuke.

"Yes!" the two chorused.

"I did the same thing when we went to Okinawa three years ago," Kyousuke told Madoka, producing a photo from his pocket. It showed the three of them posing on the beach, laughing, with bougainvilleas placed willy-nilly in Naoe's hair and orchids in her mother's.

"And now…" said he, producing his digital camera from his pocket, "shutter chance!"

"Wait!" exclaimed Madoka, having eyed the baby's breath still on the table. "Naoe, help Mama put those flowers in Papa's hair."

Naoe gleefully assisted her Mama in the task by handing her the stems as needed, while Madoka arranged the baby's breath in the fashion of the laurel leaves worn by ancient Roman emperors.

"There!" She grinned. "Now we can take a picture."

After it was taken, Naoe asked, "Mama, can I show this to Mrs. Chitose?"

Madoka nodded. Her daughter happily skipped away to the kitchen. They heard Mrs. Chitose raise her voice and speak in delight.

"Kyousuke, thank you. They're very pretty." She leaned towards him, intending to kiss him on the cheek again, but changed her mind and planted a kiss on his mouth. Before she could pull away, however, her husband wrapped his arms around her. Madoka closed her eyes and continued kissing him, feeling what it must have been like between them before.

"Now that was nice," she remarked after they separated, her voice unsteady. "I didn't know you were such a good kisser."

"Thank you," said Kyousuke. "I'm good at other things as well." He paused and looked straight at her. "Would you like me to show you?"

Red crept onto Madoka's face. She didn't answer him.

"H-hey." Kyousuke put a hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry."

She shook her head. "No, I'm fine." She ran her fingers over his lips. "How would I react to this?" she asked. "You look like you're expecting me to make a comment," she explained.

"Huh? Well, you'd usually say something like 'Are you sure you've got something to show?' and other stuff like that." It was his turn to blush. "A long time ago, though, you'd never have let me get away with it."

"What do you mean?"

"You'd have slapped me silly by now."

"Really?" Madoka appeared to consider. "Well, it's your choice. Do you want to get slapped now, or later?"

"Eh?"

She laughed and leaned against him. "Just joking. Anyway, Kyousuke?"

"Yes?"

She looked up and smiled shyly. He smelled the fragrance of the roses in her hair.

"Please be gentle," she whispered.

-----oOo-----

Later that night, they lay entwined in their marital bed, naked under the covers. Madoka caressed her husband's cheek while he lay there gazing at her.

"Penny for your thoughts," she said softly.

"Nothing. I was just thinking how I've never seen a woman quite as beautiful as you."

"That's so sweet of you," she murmured, giving him a kiss. "Were you this flattering before? Because if you were, I'm going to really regret not getting my memory back."

Kyousuke said nothing, simply closing his eyes and feeling her slender fingers as they stroked his cheek and brushed the hair back from his face.

"I have something else for you," he finally said. "Well, it's not a thing, but rather an event, a power."

"What is it?" Madoka's curiosity was aroused.

For an answer, her husband sat up in bed and looked towards the door. Suddenly the ceiling light came on. She blinked in the glare.

"What happened? Why'd the light switch on?"

Kyousuke said nothing, instead focusing his gaze on his table. The packet of orange lozenges sitting on it slowly rose into the air and drifted towards them. Dumbfounded, Madoka could only watch as it landed in his outstretched hand. He turned to her and smiled.

She shivered. To her, he suddenly seemed indescribably mysterious, and a dark aura seemed to hang in the air around him.

"W-what's the m-meaning of this?" she stuttered.

The packet took off and floated itself in front of her.

"Want one?" Kyousuke asked in a conversational tone.

Madoka looked hard at the floating object, like one who was trying her best to understand what was happening before her. Then, failing to, she opted to faint instead.

-----oOo-----

In the blackness that she existed in, an echoing sound slowly resolved itself into a familiar voice.

"Madoka! Are you okay?"

She groaned. Opening her eyes, she found herself looking up at her husband's solicitous face. She jerked into a sitting position and propelled herself to the other end of the bed with admirable velocity.

"If that… if that was a joke, Kasuga, then it wasn't funny," she admonished, clasping the bedcover to her chest.

"Well, I can see you're awake now," Kyousuke said dryly. "Sorry. I couldn't resist being dramatic."

She felt the bed give beneath her. Then it sunk—or rather, she rose into the air, her body exposed as the bedsheet covering her fell away. As she began to move towards Kyousuke, she clapped her hands over her eyes.

"Oh, I think I'm going to faint again," she moaned.

She landed on her husband's lap, where he set about prying her hands away from her face.

"Madoka—urgh—come on, there's nothing to be afraid of," he said. "It's just too bad you don't remember you married a chou-no-ryoku-sha."

"Chou-no-ryoku-sha?" She looked up at him. "You're a chou-no-ryoku-sha?"

Kyousuke nodded. "That's supposed to be a secret, okay? You mustn't talk about it with people other than my family, okay?"

"As in no one else?"

"No one. Not your parents, not your co-workers, not a soul."

"Why?"

"If anyone who's not a member of the family learns about our powers, we have to move. It's a law we have to follow, to keep ourselves safe."

"Did I know about this before?"

"Yes. I told you right after you agreed to go steady with me."

"And did I freak out like I did just now?"

"No, you were cool about it. But then, you didn't think there was a ghost around either." Kyousuke chuckled. "Some things never change."

"It's not funny," she insisted.

"Yes it is."

Sticking her tongue out at him, Madoka asked, "Who else knows about this?"

"Well, like I said, my family. And Kurumi and Manami also have powers. Also Kazuya, Akane, Ojii-chan and Obaa-chan, and the rest of the Kasugas."

"Really? They don't look like the esper type."

"We're careful not to expose ourselves." Kyousuke frowned as he thought of Kurumi and his grandfather and grandmother. "Well, most of us are."

"Does this mean… does this mean Naoe also has psychic powers?"

"I don't know. No one can predict when the power will manifest itself. She may, or may not, be an esper. Only time will tell."

Having run out of questions for the time being, Madoka fell silent. "I need to think about this," she told Kyousuke.

"Alright," he replied, kissing her. She got off his lap and he stood up, looking around for his clothes. "I'll leave you alone for a while." He found and put on his boxers, shorts and t-shirt, then made for the door.

"Madoka?"

"Hmm?"

"I'm sorry I frightened you."

"That's okay."

Relieved, Kyousuke opened the door. "Do you want anything?"

"Just a snack, if it's not too much trouble."

"Okay." He went outside and shut the door.

_That went pretty well,_ he thought, heading for the stairs. _I'll have to tell Kurumi and Manami to stop hiding their powers from Madoka. They'll be pleased as punch. Especially Kurumi._

-----oOo-----

The next morning before breakfast Kyousuke informed his wife that he would not be able to escort her home. "Don't forget your umbrella this time," he reminded her. "The weather report predicted rain."

"Yes, old man," Madoka replied, smiling. "You're such a worrier, Kyousuke."

"If I'm an old man, you're an old woman," he countered.

A loud voice from inside the kitchen interrupted them. "Madoka-saaan, how do you like your bacon?"

"What? Oh, here, I said I was going to do that." Madoka went into the kitchen.

She saw Kurumi holding a smoking frying pan out in front of her. Madoka took a look and saw little hissing strips inside, dark brown in color.

"I guess they're a little too well done," Kurumi said sheepishly.

"Oh, that's all right. Look, why don't you sit down and I'll take care of this."

Kurumi, frowning, put the frying pan down and exited the kitchen.

Madoka opened the little windows near the stove and turned the exhaust fan on. Then she set about finishing what the younger Kasuga twin started.

The disgraced pastry chef plopped into a seat beside Kyousuke. "I can't understand why that happens."

"What happened?"

"I burned the bacon."

"You probably got the fire too high again,' her older brother suggested.

"I guess."

"What do they do to you when that happens at work?"

Kurumi put her left elbow on the table and put her head in its hand. She drummed the fingers of the other. "Oh, they yell at us," she said. "That's okay, though. If they get on my nerves, I just arrange for them to have a little accident afterwards." An impish grin appeared on her face, and Kyousuke's seat suddenly started shaking.

"Knock it off, Kurumi. That's terrible of you."

"Hmph, that's easy for you to say." She tucked her hair behind an ear. "You haven't met my boss yet."

After ten minutes Kyousuke's wife emerged from the kitchen holding two plates, one of eggs over easy and the other of fried rice mixed with chopped scrambled eggs, diced carrots, spring onions, and suspiciously familiar little dark bits of something.

"Mmm," said Kyousuke. "That smells lovely."

Kurumi held up a little brown fleck from the rice. "Oh." Popping the bit of bacon in her mouth, she said, "It's all your fault, onii-chan."

"What?"

"Well, I turned the fire up because you said you were in a hurry. That's why I burned the bacon."

Kyousuke opened his mouth to retaliate, then decided discretion was the better part of valor, and shut it.

Madoka chuckled at them. "Let's eat!"

-----oOo-----

"Let's call this a day," suggested the man with the long blond hair. "I think we've done enough for today."

Madoka watched as Mitsuru Hayakawa switched the sound monitor off. They were in the control booth, supervising the recording of one of their talents, a young pianist named Atsuko Gibo.

Hayakawa leaned into the mike set into the control board. "Okay, Miss Gibo, let's continue this tomorrow."

The girl with the long red hair and deep violet eyes looked their way and nodded.

"Same time?" she asked, her voice tinny over the intercom.

Hayakawa nodded, and the girl stood up and exited the recording room. He told the recording technician to pack it up, then got his jacket from his chair.

"Want me to drive you home?" he asked Madoka, who was putting her Powerbook back into its satchel. "It's starting to snow outside."

"No, thanks," she told him. "I'll commute."

"Are you sure, Madoka-san?"

She nodded. "I'll be alright." As with Kyousuke, she had forgotten all about Hayakawa, but learned enough about him the first time she met him again to realize why her husband frowned every time his name came up in conversation. Though he had married his long-time girlfriend, he was still a womanizer, pure and simple.

Virtually everyone had left by the time she exited the building. It was gray outside, and the flurries that stung her face made her turn up the collar of her heavy coat. _Damn,_ she cursed. _I should have accepted Hayakawa's offer._ But she was wary of him coming on to her.

She walked quickly to the bus stop. The shifting winds made her umbrella all but useless.

Her watch and the bus schedule said her ride would be along any minute, so she stood there stoically enduring the cold. When it became overdue, she started thinking about hailing a taxi.

She tried to flag down the two cabs that passed by, but both were full. She was looking at the second one going away, sighing, when a horn blared at her from behind. She swore in the split-second realization that she was still standing in the street.

There was the sound of brakes locking and tires sliding on the ground. Madoka jumped to the curb, fully expecting the car to tag her in the middle of the leap.

She landed on the sidewalk, but her boot slipped on the wet ground. As she fell, she felt something suddenly supporting her and slowing, then stopping her fall. She was slowly returned upright and regained her footing.

"Dear," came a well-known voice, "you're going to get hurt if you stand in the middle of the street like that."

She turned and saw a brand-new Morris Mini, almost the twin of her own car, except this one had a slightly lighter shade of red. And in the driver's seat was…

"Kyousuke?"

"Hi. Hop in."

She got into the car, grateful to be out of the cold. "Am I glad to see you," she said. "I thought you weren't going to fetch me."

"I wasn't. But I finished work early, so I came to get you. When the security guard at the studio told me you had just left, I went looking. I was searching the sidewalk and almost didn't see you in time. Sorry."

Her hands brushed her hair free of her coat. "No, it was my fault, standing in the street like that."

The Mini began to move.

"Well?" said Kyousuke.

"Well what?"

"Aren't you going to ask what I'm doing in this car?"

She looked at him. "What are you doing in this car?"

"Huh. It's your Christmas gift from your parents. They told me to tell you they're sorry they can't stay for Christmas."

"Really? I wish they would. I haven't spent Christmas with them in, what, ten years? I'll see them later. Want to come with me?" Madoka seemed to not care about the car, Kyousuke noted as he replied in the affirmative.

There was a short silence as he negotiated a busy intersection.

"Madoka, you know I don't have the money to buy you something like this," he began.

"So? That's okay. It's not like I'm expecting something like this from you." She ran a hand over the tooled-leather dashboard. "I think my parents are trying to make up for all the time they left me alone," she said. "Even though we seldom saw each other, when we did, we used to fight sometimes, my dad and I. It wasn't very pretty."

Though she had told him that before, Kyousuke appreciated her sharing what she remembered of her past life with him.

She shook her head. "Ah, now, what was it you were trying to say?"

"I'd also like to give you an early Christmas gift. But it will take time."

"I can wait."

"No, no, that's not what I meant. I mean the gift itself will take time to perform."

"And when are you going to tell me what it is exactly?"

Kyousuke told her, and her face showed she was intrigued.

"That," she said, "would be the best Christmas gift anyone could give me now."

-----oOo-----

"Don't tell me you really want to go back and relive your lives again," said a surprised Manami, sitting down on the sofa.

"Hey, onii-chan," said Kurumi, ambling into the living room, having just finished feeding the cat, "if you push through with it, can I come along too?"

It was after supper, and the couple had just returned from visiting Madoka's parents when Kyousuke broached the subject to the people in the house.

He looked at Madoka, who nodded. "It's okay, I guess. But I have to insist on our privacy."

"Sure, sure. Yay! I always wanted to see how I looked like from another point of view. Manami-chan, dontcha want to come too?"

Manami shrugged. "I guess. But I wouldn't want to see what happened between me and my first boyfriend all over again."

"Aw, Manami-chan, this is your chance to go and punch him in the face for being such a jerk."

"No, I already did that. It's lost its fun. What about you, Dad? Kazuya? Akane?"

The three members of the Kasuga clan, who had been listening silently, gave their answers.

"Nope, not interested," said Akane. "Unless you bring me back to when I can snatch Madoka-chan from you, Kyousuke."

"Akane…"

"Just kidding." She grinned at him.

"Same here," said Kazuya. "The present's a handful enough."

"Why?" Kurumi asked. "Are you in trouble with Emi-chan again?"

Before the irritated Kazuya could give a riposte, Kyousuke's father spoke.

"Me neither," Takashi said in his quiet voice, "not unless you can take me back to when your mother was alive. And leave me there."

Everyone looked at him, shocked at his unexpected answer.

"_Oyaji,_" said Kyousuke. "Is that why you insist on living alone?"

"Because you miss her?" asked Madoka. "And want peace and quiet so you can remember her?"

Takashi wordlessly lit his pipe. Tendrils of blue smoke curled upward and vanished into the air.

"You're sharp, the two of you," he finally said.

"Dad, I can take you to see her. But I can't leave you there."

Takashi looked up at his son. "Then I won't go. That would only make it worse."

An uncomfortable silence filled the room. Only Madoka had the temerity to break it.

"Please, Father," she said. "Come live here with us. Then, instead of living on old memories, you can see and feel the living legacy your wife left behind all around you."

For a moment Takashi's eyes glistened with tears. Even the normally flippant Kazuya appeared to grow solemn at his aunt's words.

"Maybe," he said carefully. "I'll think about it."

"Wait a moment," said Manami. "We've forgotten about Naoe."

"Can we bring her with us, Kyousuke?" Madoka asked, laying a hand on his arm.

He shook his head. "No, I'm afraid we can't. That's the only snag I haven't been able to solve."

"Just how long are you planning to be away, Kyousuke-niichan?" asked Kazuya. "Realtime, I mean."

"Huh? Well, around a week or so."

"Then we can handle that," said Akane. "But you'll owe us big time."

"It's a deal."

"Kyousuke." It was Takashi. "How long a time period are you planning to stay in the past?"

"From when Madoka and I met, to…" his voice trailed off. "Maybe a year, in total. We'll be jumping between days."

"That means you'll be a year older when you come back. You'll have removed a year from her life and yours when you finally return."

"That's a small price to pay, to rediscover who I was," said Madoka.

"When are you leaving, nii-chan?" Kazuya asked.

"Two days from now. We've got some preparing to do, and not much time to do it in." Kyousuke's eyes narrowed. "Hold on. Kazuya, why are you asking about when we're leaving and how long we'll be away?"

"Nothing." Kazuya was nonchalant, but the blush on his cheeks gave him away.

"Aha!" yelled Akane, her hair seemingly bristling in indignation. "I knew it! You're planning to invite your girlfriends here, aren't you?"

"Oh, shut up, sis."

"What's wrong with that?" interjected Takashi. "We'll be here to chaperone them anyway."

"Uncle!" Kazuya protested, folding his arms in front of his chest, a disappointed expression on his face.

Everyone laughed.

"Too bad, Kazuya," said Manami. "Better luck next time."

"This house is not to be used for debauchery," said Kyousuke. To which Kazuya mentally replied, _You do it with Madoka-neechan, how come I can't do it with my own girlfriends?_

_Because, my dear cousin, we're married and you're not._ Kyousuke clapped him on the shoulder. _Save it for the one you really love, Kazuya. Trust me on that. _He looked Madoka's way and made sure his cousin saw him. _I did, and I've never regretted it._

-----oOo-----

Two days later, the little 'excursion group,' as they came to be called by Takashi, assembled again in the living room, armed with the things they had determined were needed for the trip into the past.

Manami, who had come straight from her home, was startled beyond measure by what she first saw.

"Eek! Madoka-san, did you really have to get your hair cut short?"

"Well, your brother did say our younger selves mustn't recognize who we are," she said, shaking her head, making the layered bob cut swish to and fro.

"But is that 80s style?"

"I hope so. What about you, Manami?"

"I was just going to put in colored contacts and wear a head scarf," she admitted. "Nothing as extreme as you." Manami had on a checkered white sweater, red jeans and a pair of old-style laced rubber shoes.

"If you think this is extreme, you haven't seen Kyousuke yet." Madoka jerked a thumb in the general direction of the stairs.

"Hiya, Manami!" Kurumi came into the room, dressed in an old-style green blouse and loose cream-colored pants. Her hair was dyed black and made up into a short ponytail. "All set?"

"Where's onii-chan?"

There was a thumping, clumping sound on the stairs, and Kyousuke Kasuga struggled down them with an overloaded backpack and an equally heavy haversack.

"Onii-chan!" exclaimed Manami. "Is that really you?"

Her brother had doused himself with tanning lotion and adorned his head with a buzz cut. He was dressed in a dark yellow t-shirt with torn sleeves and loose black pants, which were bloused into the boots he wore.

"You guys are really serious about this," she remarked as Kyousuke reached the bottom of the stairs.

"You bet," said Kyousuke. Madoka went to help him, easily slinging the backpack onto her shoulder, eyeing him significantly. "Showoff," he grumbled.

"Okay, final check." They went through their checklists and, when they were satisfied everything was in order, hefted their luggage.

Kazuya, who had been watching them, shook his head. "You guys are a sight for sore eyes."

"Bye-bye, Kazu-chan," said Kurumi sweetly. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do, okay?"

"Likewise," Kazuya grumbled, still ticked off at losing the chance to have Emi all to himself later that day.

"Are you sure Ojii-chan will lend us the money?" Manami asked.

"I'm sure of that," said Kyousuke. "I've got a secret weapon with me."

"And if all else fails," piped up Kurumi, "I know where my piggy bank is hidden."

"Well, you won't be staying long, so that's not such a problem. Is everyone ready?"

They all nodded.

"Well, this is it. See you around, Pop, Kazuya."

"Good luck, all of you," said Takashi.

The four linked hands. Although Kyousuke was the only one with the ability to travel through time, he needed his sisters' power to assist him in transporting the four of them.

There was a humming sound in the air, and the four figures standing in the center of the living room began to glow with a bright blue light. Slowly it grew brighter and brighter, until Takashi and Kazuya could no longer see any of them. Then there was a sound like a thunderclap. The blue light vanished, and the four were gone.

-----oOo-----

Somewhere on the outskirts of Tokyo, in 1984, two figures materialized in a small playground situated on the top landing of a long flight of stone stairs. The stairs skirted a hill with a road on top of it, and hydrangeas were in bloom beyond its railings, their light blue flowers a sharp contrast to their dark green leaves.

Something in the air made Kyousuke shiver. He set down his haversack. "This is it. I can feel it. The beginning of the eternal summer of my life…"

Madoka looked at him curiously, puzzled at his outburst, then asked a more prosaic question. "Are you sure you got the day right?"

"Now that is one thing I'll never forget. Uh… but I'm not so sure about the time."

"Well, you'd better bring out the cloak your ojii-san lent us while we wait," Madoka said. "He's such a sweet old man," she added, remembering their visit to his home.

"Lecherous is more like it," mumbled Kyousuke under his breath. He had caught his grandfather ogling her time and again, and this wasn't the first time it had happened either.

He dug around in his sack, bringing out a large white piece of cloth with a beautiful shimmering sheen and an embroidered pattern of cranes and ginko leaves. The family crest of the Kasuga clan was sewn onto the back.

"I hope this thing really works," he said. "Let's give it a test." He threw it around his shoulders and tied the drawstring. The moment he finished, he vanished from Madoka's sight.

"It works," Madoka informed him. She smiled. "I'm glad neither of us has a criminal bent. We could make a killing using this."

Kyousuke reappeared as he untied the drawstring. "Yeah. I guess that's why Ojii-chan insisted on us returning it as soon as we were finished."

"Where am I supposed to hide?"

"I guess you could snuggle in here," he said, throwing the cloak open. "It's big enough."

"Do you think Manami and Kurumi will be alright?"

"Knowing those two, I'm sure they're taking care of themselves." Kyousuke fell silent as a strong wind blew on them. "I can't believe we're here," he said, staring out at the scenery.

"That's strange, coming from you," Madoka remarked, coming to stand beside him, also looking out at her hometown. She never thought she'd see it again looking as it did now. "Haven't you done this before?"

"Almost never. Time travel is a delicate thing." Madoka prodded him, but he refused to explain any further.

Looking around, she happened to look down the road behind them. "Hey, Kyousuke, there's someone coming this way."

It was a businessman, and as he plodded down the staircase, they reappeared on the landing, watching him make his sedate way down.

"False alarm," sang Madoka as she folded the cloak. "At least we know for sure this thing works."

"I could still see you even though we had it on," said Kyousuke.

"Same here. Maybe that's the way it really is for those using it. That man didn't seem to notice us."

Several minutes passed before the anticipated young lady came running down the road, chasing her windblown hat. Her slender legs flashed in the sunlight; her shining black hair flowed out behind her.

"Is that me?" Madoka asked in wonder. All of a sudden, as she looked at her younger self, she recalled listening to David Lanz's _A Childhood Remembered_ and decided that what she was feeling then was what the album was all about.

A bright red object sailed high in the air.

_That hat…_ she thought. _Isn't it the one on the wall at home?_

As the scene played out before them, with her younger self meeting and talking to a lad her age wearing a yellow sweater with light-blue long sleeves and blue jeans, Madoka felt somehow detached, as if it were a tableau and she and her husband were the audience.

"Nice catch!" called the younger Madoka. "The wind took it from me. I'm glad. I thought it had gone all the way to the bottom."

Madoka wanted to laugh at the sight of the young man. He was clearly smitten with the pretty stranger in the red floral-patterned shirt and white shorts._ Is that my Kyousuke? He looks quite handsome, in an average, nondescript sort of way._ She giggled at the thought.

"It would've been a real hassle since this stairway is so long…" her younger self remarked, going down the steps to stand beside the young man.

"Yeah… it really is," he said.

"After all," she continued, "it's got ninety-nine steps."

"Really?" The young Kyousuke started going up. "Ninety-eight, ninety-nine… one hundred!"

The pair looked at each other.

"No way! There should be only ninety-nine!" the young Madoka exclaimed.

"But… I counted exactly from the bottom," Kyousuke countered.

"That can't be right!"

"Maybe you counted wrong?" suggested Kyousuke, smiling sheepishly.

"Speak for yourself! Isn't it you who miscounted?"

"Oh no. There were exactly one hundred."

"Ninety-nine!" shouted Madoka.

"One hundred!" shouted Kyousuke.

"Ninety-nine!"

Kyousuke paused a moment. "Well then, how about this? Let's get the average and say there are ninety-nine and a half steps!"

Ayukawa looked at him in surprise, then laughed out loud.

"What does it matter, anyway?" she asked. Kyousuke agreed with her.

"You're not from this town, are you?"

"Eh? How do you know?"

"You've got an accent."

"Really?" asked an embarrassed Kyousuke.

Madoka grasped the railing and turned away from him. "I have to go. See you!"

"Bye!" Kyousuke watched her go, hands behind his head. "Oh, wait! Your hat!"

"Eh? Keep it, it's yours! For some reason it looks good on you."

As his teenage alter ego stood there, watching the pretty stranger disappear round the corner of the staircase, the older Kyousuke whispered to Madoka. "I know what he's thinking. _I think I'm going to like this town._" Then the young man happily ran away, making zooming airplane noises, the red straw hat planted firmly on his head.

After he had gone from view, they unfastened the cloak and popped back into the real world near the top of the stairs, under the shade of a tree.

"So that's how we first met, huh?" Madoka asked."I just want to ask one thing."

"What's that?" Kyousuke asked, hugging her to him. There was a wide gap of time between their two young selves and themselves, but he suddenly didn't seem to mind growing older while taking the journey across it, not with Madoka by his side, amnesia or no amnesia.

"Are there ninety-nine or one hundred steps?"

He laughed. "Well, we can find out." Going to the stairs with her on his arm, he began counting. "One, two, three…"

-----oOo-----

For those who were left behind, three days passed. The house seemed oddly quiet, and Akane and Takashi spent most of their time taking care of Naoe, who seemed put out that her parents were gone again.

"You have to understand, Naoe-chan," said Akane on the second cloudy afternoon. "What they're doing is very important to them."

"But I want them here," Naoe complained with the righteous obstinancy of childhood, which knew itself to be correct and demanded immediate justice.

"They can't come now. If you force them to, they'll become very unhappy."

"But I'm unhappy now!" And she started to cry.

Takashi lifted her up. "Hey, don't cry, dear girl. We're here with you, aren't we? Does this mean you don't want us around anymore? Don't you love us too?"

Naoe nodded her head. "I do, but I miss Papa and Mama."

"Well, since they're not here, you will have to help us run the house," said Takashi. "Can you help us? Good. Now, I want you to keep an eye on your Uncle Kazuya. He's bringing his friends over here again, and he might start fighting with them. Could you watch them for us?" Kazuya had limited himself to a kiss or two with Emi and Miyuki, but his elders had decided to help him out by denying him opportunities to do more than that.

Naoe nodded.

"Good girl." Takashi gave her a kiss and set her on the floor. "Now wipe your tears and blow your nose."

After the little girl left in search of her Uncle Kazuya, Akane chuckled. "Uncle, you are one slick operator sometimes."

Takashi smiled faintly. "Comes with raising three espers singlehandedly, I guess."

-----oOo-----

On the fourth day, the group reappeared in the living room in the early afternoon, looking quite different from when they had left. Their moods when they returned were also quite different: Manami and Kurumi were equally joyful, while Madoka and Kyousuke were quiet and contemplative.

"Gosh, I'd forgotten how cute Ishinori was back then," Manami gushed. She was wearing a green yukata with a white bamboo pattern that she had gotten as a souvenir of the trip.

"Yeah," agreed Kurumi. She looked like a hippie, with pink t-shirt, faded jeans, sandals, headband, and little John Lennon-style half-moon glasses. "We could have been arrested as cradle-snatchers." Both women laughed at the thought.

Takashi, who was sitting at the sofa reading a newspaper, arched an eyebrow. "I take it you had fun?"

"Yeah!" they chorused.

"Welcome back!" said Kazuya, appearing in the dining room hallway with Naoe in tow. "You're just in time to sample my culinary experiment, which is cooling on the dining room table." Akane was at work, so it had fallen on to his shoulders to be cook for the day.

Kurumi's face lit up. "Oh, boy! Food!" The twins disappeared into the dining room, while Naoe ran to her parents and was lifted up by her mother.

"Hello, my girl," said Madoka, kissing her cheek. "We're back, but I'm sorry we won't be staying long."

"We're leaving again in the morning," Kyousuke said in reply to his father's questioning look.

"How far have you gone?"

"Early 1987." The walk down memory lane was taking much less time than Kyousuke had previously estimated.

"Mama, can't you take me with you?" Naoe pleaded.

"I'm sorry, Naoe, we can't. I promise next time we will, though." Unappeased by her mother's vow, the little girl began to cry, and Madoka had to take her away to soothe her.

Kyousuke dug into his haversack and brought a periodical out. "Here, Kazuya. A present from the past." He tossed it to his cousin.

"Aw, Kyousuke-niichan!" exclaimed Kazuya in dismay. "Are you trying to torture me or something?" He held up the H-magazine. "Besides, I don't like it, they're all too eighty-ish—"

"Well, if you don't like it…"

"—but I could be persuaded to change my mind."

As Kazuya left to peruse his prize, Takashi spoke. "How is your trip coming along, Kyousuke?"

"As well as can be expected. Everything's new to her, and even I get surprised sometimes learning how my recollections were wrong. I never thought I could dislike my indecisive self so much." He told his father of how, after watching his younger self shilly-shally yet again over another matter concerning Hikaru and Madoka, he had so dearly wanted to grab his neck and wring it, only to be prevented by his wife's painful pinch.

There was a yell from the dining room, and Kurumi came speeding out.

"Ah! Hot! Hot! Where's that Kazuya?" She fanned her mouth with a hand. Eyes narrowing, she stomped down the corridor leading to the ground-level bedrooms. "Kazuyaaaa! Have a taste of your own cooking, why dontcha!"

Takashi smiled and Kyousuke laughed. "And has she recovered her memory?"

"Some of it. She now remembers a little about me." _For which I'm glad,_ he added silently. "But you know something, pop? Her amnesia somehow bothers me much less now."

"Why is that?"

Kyousuke shrugged, pretending ignorance but actually too embarrassed to reveal the truth. _She was right,_ he reflected._ Madoka is Madoka, and even though she's lost her memory, you can still see its imprint in the way she acts, the way she feels, and even the way she talks. _

He pictured her trying to comfort their daughter, the product of their love for each other, then juxtaposed the image with the cigarette-smoking, pick-throwing, face-slapping girl he had known back in high school. He smiled inside. _So much has changed about her, yet she's still so much like her former self, I have the sneaking suspicion I'm falling in love with her all over again._

-----oOo-----

They left early in the morning, just the two of them, careful to not wake Naoe, who spent the night in their room, asleep in their bed. This time, Kyousuke did not need Manami and Kurumi's added psychic strength, and only Takashi saw them off. They had repacked their bags, finding out that much of what they thought they had needed was actually unnecessary.

The world rematerialized around them, and Kyousuke immediately sensed that his power had misfired. They were in a hallway, and they quickly recognized it.

Madoka was the first to speak. "_Anata, _what are we doing in my—"

A shuffling sound to their right caught their attention, and they looked that way to see a Madoka older than the ones they had previously seen, but still in her teens, walking slowly down the corridor leading to the front door, back turned towards them. She was wearing a blue kimono decorated with white flowers, a red obi, and was barefoot.

They quickly ducked behind a cabinet containing dishes and glassware. "What's she doing?" 35-year-old Madoka whispered. "Why is she dressed like that? Just what time did you bring us to anyway?"

A cold feeling settled in the pit of Kyousuke's stomach. Looking at his wife's younger double, he instantly knew what time he had brought them to.

"Ah, this isn't where I intended to bring us. Come on, let's go." He grabbed hold of his wife's elbow and made to leave. Outside, there was the sound of fireworks going off in the distance.

Suddenly the hallway light began to go on and off, on and off. Puzzled, they both peeked around the corner and saw the teenaged Madoka standing by the light switch, a blank stare on her face, flicking the control on and off, on and off.

"Kyousuke, what's she doing? Has she gone crazy? Did I go crazy?"

Without a word he pulled Madoka roughly away from the cabinet. Taken aback at his rudeness, her eyebrows furrowed.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"I don't think you want to see any of this," he slowly stated, a serious look on his face, the cold feeling within him spreading.

Kyousuke's wife shook her hand free from his grasp and gave him an angry look. She peeped around the cabinet and watched in troubled fascination as her younger self kept flicking the light on and off, on and off.

There was the sound of a door opening, and the young Madoka stopped playing with the light switch and walked forward, disappearing around the corner connecting her house's living room with the corridor leading to the front door.

The elder Madoka sighed. She felt like one big Peeping Tom, but she just had to know what happened next. Yanking Kyousuke beside her, she quickly threw the cloak over them, tied it shut, and walked quietly towards the corner.

They reached it in time to see the 17-year-old Kyousuke Kasuga put his hands on his 18-year-old love's shoulders. He leaned forward to kiss her, but she turned her face away and rested her head on his shoulder instead.

"Um… about Hikaru…" he said quietly, embracing her.

"It's not so much about Hikaru, as it is about your true feelings," she responded.

It was only then that the married Madoka realized her Kyousuke was shivering.

"_Anata…_" she began, then had to stop as they made way for the younger couple, who headed into the living room. When they were safely past, she tried again. "Kyousuke…"

"I don't want to be here…" he whispered, hands clenched. "I don't want to be here."

"Let's go, then," she said. "I think I've seen enough." She thought she knew what was about to happen.

They quietly walked towards the front door and removed the cloak. Kyousuke sighed, held Madoka's hands, and speedily got them out of that place of sadness.

The younger esper, who was leading his chosen love to the sofa, saw a flash from the corridor they had just come from. He looked back for a moment, realized it was from the fireworks outside, and turned his attention back to Ayukawa.

-----oOo-----

The world formed around them again, and Kyousuke Kasuga had the sinking sensation he knew where they were: on top of the hill near his house, with the inclined roadway just below and in front of them leading down to it. It was nighttime.

"Where are we now?"

"You can tell that as well as I can," snapped Kyousuke.

"Hey, I don't know where we are," Madoka said, surprised at his temper. "Why–"

"Let me go!" came a familiar voice through the night air, interrupting them. "Let me go!" it repeated, louder, more angry.

"_Hanasenai! Hanasenai!_" answered another voice. "I won't let you go! I won't let you go!"

Kyousuke felt a feeling of dread crawl up his skin. His hand gripped Madoka's convulsively. "Hikaru," he whispered.

They looked down to see two figures struggling on the road. Blond-haired Hikaru Hiyama, Madoka's childhood friend, was gripping her sempai's brown polo shirt, trying to hold on to him, while he tried to push himself free.

"I won't let you go!" she cried. "'Cause if I do, you'll leave me behind! You'll go away and leave me behind!"

The older Kyousuke closed his eyes.

"I can't just give up on you!"

The younger Kasuga grimaced and finally freed himself from Hikaru's grasp, pushing her away.

Madoka stared down at them. Her head throbbed; memories were pouring into it, nearly overwhelming her. She swayed, but did not fall, unwillingly riveted to where she was by the scene playing its bitter self out before her.

"Don't you like me at all anymore?" she heard Hikaru ask, her voice punctuated by heartbreaking sobs. She could measure how much her friend loved Kyousuke by the depth of the despair she heard in her voice. "What was I to you anyway?"

The young Kyousuke, not replying, abruptly turned around. Hikaru stood rooted to the spot, watching him as he began to walk away.

"Answer me!" Her yell echoed in the night air.

It also echoed in the couple's hearts, and split each in two once again. Madoka finally saw with her own two eyes the price Hikaru had paid so she could have Kyousuke; Kyousuke watched the waking nightmare of how he had hurt her, even though he loved her second only to Ayukawa.

Madoka, alone with her thoughts, watched as her husband's young doppelganger disappeared up the road. For a long time Hikaru stood there, unmoving, crying, the tears running down her face forming a dark smudge on the concrete. Then she turned and headed in the opposite direction. It was all Madoka could do to stop herself from running down to her and telling her everything would be all right, in the end, that she would soon find her way back to Kyousuke and herself, even if things could not be the same as they were before.

When Madoka glanced at her husband, she found him silently looking down at the figure walking by herself down the dark, lonely, lamplit road, his eyes glistening. His trembling hand reached out, as if to hold her in it, as if to stop her from walking away.

"Hikaru," she heard him whisper. "I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

Madoka realized he had been fearing this moment ever since they had appeared in her hallway. He hadn't meant to bring them here, but his power had somehow acted according to its own devices and brought them to this painful, desolate island of time.

"This is how it ended, isn't it?" she asked quietly, even though she already knew the answer. She walked up to him and embraced him tightly, resting her head on his chest. At that moment she felt she needed him as much as he probably needed her.

"Yes," he croaked. Something sailed through the air towards him, and he caught it in his hand. It was a poster for a play named 'Downtown Cats.'

"This was how our triangle ended." Something warm splashed onto her forearm, and Madoka added to it with one of her own. "This was when our childhood ended."

-----oOo-----

The very same day they left they returned, in the late afternoon, and Akane, Kazuya, Kurumi, and Manami were surprised to see them.

"Onii-chan, I thought you said you'd be away at least until tomorrow," said Manami, laying her cards down. They had been playing bridge, and exercising their psychic defense against mind readers like Kazuya.

Kyousuke's distraught expression silenced them. He dumped his haversack on the floor and went straight upstairs.

"Did something happen, Madoka-chan?" Akane asked.

Madoka looked up to where her husband had disappeared, then looked back at them. She shrugged, a helpless expression in her eyes, and followed him up the stairs.

"I think I know what happened," Manami said. "1987…" She locked eyes with Kurumi, who was thinking the same thing.

"Hikaru," they both said to each other.

"Poor Kyousuke-niichan," said Kazuya. He had seen his cousin then. Kyousuke was never quite the same after that time.

"Poor Hikaru-chan," said Kurumi.

"Poor Madoka-san," said Manami.

"But that was so long ago, wasn't it?" asked Akane in disbelief.

Manami shrugged her shoulders and gestured with her head towards the stairs. "Not for him, it wasn't."

-----oOo-----

Next day, Naoe looked out the living room window at the heavily-clad figure sitting on the stone bench on their front lawn. It had snowed unusually hard the previous day, and a decent layer of it covered everything outside.

"Mama, why is Papa out there?"

Madoka came over to the window and placed a hand on her head.

"Papa is sad, Naoe, and he doesn't want us to see, so he's being sad by himself."

"Why doesn't he want us to see?"

"Because he's afraid we'll become sad too."

The child put a finger to her lips and thought. "But it's Christmastime," she said. "Nobody should be sad now."

Madoka stroked her daughter's hair. She had tried to talk to him yesterday, but he had shut himself off from her, going into a fitful sleep to avoid her attention. She had needed him then, but she had not begrudged him his solitude. She could always turn to Manami and the others for a ready ear and ready advice, but he was a man and could never express himself in such an intimate way to any of them.

"Being sad, Naoe, knows no time or season." She smiled gently at her daughter. "Maybe your Papa will become happier if you go tell him he shouldn't be sad today."

Naoe nodded. "Okay, Mama." Her mother helped her put on her jacket and hood, her leggings and the little pink boots she loved so much, and she tramped out the door and into the snow.

Madoka watched through the window as the little figure walked up to her daddy and tapped him on the back. He turned and greeted her, then lifted her out of the snow, to place her on his lap. She pointed to the house.

"Does he know? That you remember everything already?"

Madoka turned to see Takashi standing beside her, his pipe in his hand, watching the same scene.

"No, I haven't had the chance to tell him yet."

He pointed with his pipe at his son and granddaughter. "He still grieves, after all this time. Madoka, I'm surprised you aren't upset at him for still feeling this way about Hikaru."

"No, I understand what he's going through. She was my friend too. But I wasn't the one who had to go and break her heart."

They watched as Kyousuke slowly got off the bench and, carrying Naoe, walked back up to the front door. It opened to admit the two of them.

"Mama," announced Naoe as they entered, "Papa said he's not going to be sad any more. But he misses Auntie Hikaru."

"Naoe! I told you not to say that!"

The child giggled at her father, happy he wasn't gloomy anymore.

Kurumi called them to the dining room to eat. Setting his daughter down, Kyousuke told her to go on ahead. She left following her Grandpa Takashi.

As he shed his jacket, Madoka asked, "Is it true? You miss her?"

"Yeah." He hung his jacket on the wall rack in the genkan. "We haven't seen her in a long time. It'd be nice to have her here for Christmas."

"Well, your wish has been granted. She's coming over tomorrow."

"Oh? How do you know that?"

"She called a while ago. She's coming all the way from Otaru just to visit us."

"That's great!" So saying, Kyousuke kissed Madoka. "You are a bearer of good tidings and Christmas cheer." He ruffled her short black hair. "Uh-oh. I wonder how we're going to explain to her why we look like this."

She took his hand and returned it to his side. "Not so fast, dear husband. Why are you so happy? You know, I haven't told you whether I've decided to stay or not."

He paused, not knowing if her capricious personality had gone and changed the decision he assumed she had made about not leaving him. "I'm aware of that."

"Do you want to know my answer?"

Kyousuke raised his eyebrows.

"I'm staying. And I've also got an early Christmas present for you."

Kyousuke took her in his arms and kissed her by way of thanks. "What is it?"

Madoka stood on tiptoe and whispered the answer in his ear. Kyousuke's eyes widened.

"Wonderful!" he exclaimed. "When—"

"Back when we were watching you and Hikaru. Everything came back to me then."

"Well," Kyousuke said pensively, "at least one good thing came out of it." He suddenly bent and lifted Madoka up in his arms, twirling around carrying her, both of them laughing. She noticed on the wall beside the old red straw hat a framed calligraphic print, one she had given him early in their marriage, when they were still young, and the world seemed so bright in the late spring of their lives:

_Covered with flowers,  
Instantly I'd like to die  
In this dream of ours!_

_-Etsujin_

When Kyousuke had stopped, Madoka spoke. "Hey, you shouldn't be so sad. We all made up later, don't you remember?"

"Yeah. But that doesn't make the memory any less painful." He smiled. "But at least I still have both of you in my life. And you know something else?"

"What?"

"I'm glad you have your memory back, because it means I have the two Madokas with me now."

"Two Madokas?"

Kyousuke nodded happily at her. "Yeah. The one before the accident, and the one after. You see, I've discovered I love them both equally."

Madoka smiled and kissed him. His heart, which she had wanted for so long, was once again hers. And her heart, after its long, lonely voyage through the uncharted waters of memory, could once more rest safely with him.

"Hey, you lovebirds," Kazuya's sardonic voice called out from behind Kyousuke. "Are you coming or what? We can't start eating because of you, and I'm starving."

**THE END**


End file.
